


Digby:  The Christmas Elf

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa and Draco's personal House Elf have a surprise Christmas present for him. Draco is of mixed emotion when he learns what, or who, it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Digby:  The Christmas Elf

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a really long time ago, but never got around to posting it here. And since I'm currently incapable of making new words I'm posting the old.

Digby: The Christmas Elf

The snow was falling gently in the garden as Draco came outside. Came was not the best word to describe his entry into the garden. Slammed, stamped, stormed, any of the above would be a better verb for his action.

Surely, she was joking. If not he would need to retain the services of a mind healer. As she had without a doubt gone completely off her rocker. Just what he needed to add to the joy (ha!) of the season, his father still in Azkaban and his mother on her way to St. Mungo’s for permanently mentally disabled. Happy fucking holidays indeed.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, please return to the parlour immediately. I’m not through speaking with you.” His mother’s voice was clear and low even though she remained in the parlour, a good hundred yards and through three doors that Draco clearly remembered closing with extreme vehemence as he had gone through each one. There were times when magic could be quite the annoyance. 

He debated ignoring her, but that thought flew out the window with the appearance of Digby. “Please, Master Draco to be returning to the parlour for both our sakes. Your lovely mother is quite displeased.” His big eyes pleaded silently with his master.

Draco sighed. In the six months since the war’s end, Digby had become his sole confidant. The house-elf knew all of Draco’s most trusted secrets. He just did not feel he belonged anywhere or with anyone, anymore. What was there to say about the war, or the after effects of the war? Should he talk about his father, the role they had played? How about his Aunt Bellatrix? He thought not. There was nothing for it.

Instead he ended up spending evenings at home with his mother and with Digby. He had to admit the house-elf played a mean game of Wizard’s chess. Draco was never completely sure the crocheted doily wearing creature wasn’t cheating, but he could never catch him at it. Digby, on the other hand, caught Draco each and every time. 

“Oh, alright. Tell the crazy lady to keep her hair on. I’ll return when I’m ready.” 

“The crazy lady can hear you just fine herself, and has no plans to remove her hair until she has retired for the evening.” The deceptively mild voice said as if standing right next to him. “You will return now, or suffer my wrath. Trust me when I say it is an experience you’ll not wish to entertain, ask your father.” 

_Well, bollocks._ He’d forgotten that auditory spells worked in both directions.

He stood and walked back to room where his mother sat regal as always; a cup of Earl Grey in her hand and another waiting for Draco.

“Draco, my dear, what is it that you protest so much about having Mr Potter to our New Year’s celebration? I find him to be a delightful young man. He was most considerate when I spoke with him.”

About to sink mercifully into the cushions of the overstuffed chair he favoured, Draco suddenly jerked up; as best he could considering the squishiness of the chair he had just reclined in. “You spoke to Potter? When?” Shocked was too mild a word to describe the feeling coursing through him.

“When I fire-called him to invite him here for New Year’s. I thought we had already established that. Draco, please try to keep up dear. Do I need to make an appointment for you? Your mind seems to be slipping. Perhaps a mind healer?” 

Internally, Draco let loose a scream, but he wasn’t fool enough to say anything out loud. Narcissa Malfoy, lovely and gracious, had a temper that could make the Weasley’s look like supporters of the Gandhi non-violent revolution, if her son ever showed anything less than proper respect whilst in her presence. “No mother, I do not have need of a healer. I simply did not realise that by your asking me how I felt about having Potter for New Year’s that you were in reality telling me the invitation had already been relayed. I apologize. I should have realised asking permission is not your style.” 

“I do find it much more agreeable to ask for forgiveness than for permission,” she replied sipping her tea with composure. 

Draco returned to slumping, knowing full well a reprimand would soon be forthcoming. But still fuck. Harry Potter the most recent star of his nightly fantasies had been invited to his home. All indications were he’d be coming. Draco tried really hard not to think of other ways he wished Potter would be coming. _No! No! This simply was not on._

“Draco darling, is the tea perhaps still a bit too warm? You’re turning a bright shade of red. It’s not a good colour on you. Oh, and please stop slouching. It’s very bad for the posture.”

“No mother, the tea is perfect, as usual. I’m just feeling a bit flushed. Perhaps I’m coming down with something. Maybe we should cancel our holiday plans. I’d had to be responsible for causing a major illness to the wizarding population.”

“What are you talking about? First of all it’s a week until New Year’s, plenty of time for you to recover from whatever illness you may be experiencing.” She stood to leave. “Also the only person I’ve invited is Harry Potter. He would be the only one you might possibly infect. The two of you will have the evening and the manor to yourselves. I’ll be attending the festivities at the Parkinson’s. Happy Christmas, darling, I hope this is the gift you wanted.” 

With that she floated out of the room leaving Draco staring open mouthed at her. He then turned to glare daggers, sharp pointy daggers, at Digby. A grin split the house elf’s face which was sporting a shade of red to rival Rudolph’s famous nose on his face. “Happy Christmas, Master Draco.” 

“Digby?” Draco said slow and menacingly in his best Death Eater drawl.

 _Pop ___. The sound of Apparition was his only answer.

 

The end(?)


End file.
